My Angel Wears A Jersey
by cosmoroc5
Summary: Daryl's always been a man of morals, but one to act on impulse. This time his aggression has gotten him in big trouble. When a brown eye'd boy swoops in to rescue him will it wind up being a happily ever after or will Daryl's impulsive nature once again leave him empty handed and bruised?


Daryl slumped further down into his jacket, silently watching the football team practice. The Georgian winter had washed over the landscape with a sudden vengeance that had it biting at his lungs and stinging at his sinuses whenever he inhaled the cold, dry air too fast . He'd learned to ignore it, though, it'd been a good week since the damn weather turned to shit and he had no intention of letting it keep him in the house. Better to catch a cold then a kick to the ribs or another black eye. That's why he was here, shoving his nose into the collar of his jacket and gazing out at the football field with little interest and cold fingers. Well, that and the same reason his eyes would continuously stray over to a particular numbered jersey on the field. Number 22.

Shane fucking Walsh. They'd barely ever spoken and, honestly, Shane never appeared to notice his presence anymore, but once, long ago, he'd considered the teen more then a friend. It had been in middle school, years before, when Daryl had been much smaller and scrawnier from malnourishment and prepubescence. The local bullies Phillip and Negan and their group of punks had commenced to beating the shit out of him. He'd swung on Negan hard for messing with a little black haired girl and punching her boyfriend, so Daryl had stepped in to protect her whilst her boyfriend collected himself and they pounced on him like a pack of dogs. Swarmed him to the point were his ribs ached with every movement and he felt like he couldn't breathe, still tender from his father's episode the night before.

He knew they had the potential to kill him, no one in the schoolyard cared, because, after all, he was a Dixon. And, no one liked the Dixon's. Not even when Daryl had been the only one to stand up for the little girl. He was fully prepared to take the heat for the couple currently scooting off, though he could hear the girl yelling for someone to stop the two groups and Carol yelling his name. Of course, Carol, she'd always ever been the only one to look out for him. The only one who got it. Even though their friendship was awkward it worked and the little mouse of a girl always lifted him up. What he hadn't expected was someone to actually act on their pleas. The two kids had obviously been a grade or two older. One, the shorter and larger of them took to swatting the bunch of them out of the way and throwing a hard hit at Phillip, breaking his nose, whilst the taller and skinner of them wrestled Negan to the ground and pinned him.

The rest of the two groups had fled after seeing their two leaders subdued, none loyal enough to have their back, especially against the upperclassmen and scattered like scared dogs, tails tucked like the cowards they were. And, for a second, Daryl resented the fact he hadn't been able to do that. To fight. That he'd been weak and was the one currently struggling to cough up whatever was blocking his airway so he could take a breath. The larger one of his saviors had appeared before him, blurry for a moment and then in startling clarity as Daryl blinked the unwelcomed water from his eyes. The sight of the elder boys sharp angles and dark hair and darker eyes made his stomach lurch and he squirmed, trying to brush off the sensation and focus on what the teen was saying to him. The kid looked so worried, Daryl almost felt bad, wanted to tell him he didn't have to fret so much over some Dixon-fuck-up, but he couldn't breathe let alone get his voice to work.

He managed to make a confused noise in the back of his throat and the worried look softened slightly, Daryl finally able to make out the words.

" _Shit_ , dude, you okay?", the teen asked, shifting to his side and attempting to get an arm under him, causing Daryl to groan sharply as his ribs and the enflamed cut on his back screamed in protest. "Shit, dude. _Fuck_ , ssh, it's okay.", he croaked in response before looking over his shoulder, " _Rick_ , quit fuckin' around and _help_ me."

He never heard 'Rick's reply exactly but they seemed to bicker for a moment about whether or not to move him and Daryl caught wind of his larger savior's name. Shane. It suited him. And, Daryl commenced to dose off against the hard rock beneath him, head lolling awkwardly to the side against Shane's arm, dipping out of consciousness. The rest of the account had been blurry and disconnected. He remembered being hauled up by the two boy's, dead weight between them. Remembered muttering about his dad. Then something about Merle and no hospital. Remembered Shane and Rick eyeing him with equal worry and reluctantly moving him to the janitor's closet instead of the school nurse. Then some sort of struggle he tried to put up when they went to take off his shirt. He'd fought of course, even half conscious and bleeding he knew what they would see and what would happen, but between his state and the two against one ratio, they'd gotten it off of him.

That was it. The events after had just been sensation and muddled sounds and probably out of order. He just barely remembers the ghosting of fingers through his hair and a forehead against his and how gentle and careful they'd been trying to patch him up with the measly first ad kit they'd found. Then a hand on the back of his neck when he finally settled, and then yelling and the sound of Merle's. Then quiet. Lots of quiet. And, the soft cooing tone Merle only ever got when things got really bad. He didn't go back to school for the next few weeks, and when he did he was still limping, but more bitter then ever. Perhaps bitter wasn't the right word. He was scared and hiding it behind a snarl. He came to find that the little girl's name was Rosita, and she took to coming up to him, no matter how angry he looked, and making conversation or merely pecking his cheek and moving off. She never made any advances, just friendly gestures, and he came to find himself comfortable around her and found her boyfriend had, instead of jealousy, respect for him.

That had been the only good to come of it. The school punished him still and he became a laughing stock aside from his two new friends, and then grew to be generally disliked due to the fact Shane and Rick had constantly attempted to get close, the bulk of the school not understand why the two most popular kids in school were all over a Dixon and not them. Daryl had cowered like a frightened dog when they approached him, growling and snapping even when they tried to help. He assumed it had been pity, though they argued otherwise, and he'd shut all their attempts down with a sharp 'Don't need your help. Ain't some mangy mutt you can just pick up and coo over. Can handle myself.' Shane had lasted longer then Rick, but just when Daryl's resistance had dwindled, the churning of his gut became far too noticeable around the teen and he'd turned tail. Took to avoiding the dark eyed football player like the plague.

Aside from a few lingering glances they never talked at all now. Rosita and Abraham and Carol stuck with him, still there and present when needed, gone like ghosts when not. He'd softened some, due to their friendship and a constant prodding from a little Asian boy named Glenn, who he'd come to look upon fondly now. He'd been in seventh grade back then, now a freshman in high school, Shane a junior. That fluttering in his chest and churning in his gut never went away. Shane had stuck to his thoughts and being like glue ever since that day. Even now, freezing his ass off well after school hours, he was still watching the male flit about the field and admiring the way he biceps flexed from time to time and that he actually had a decent butt in those pants and those glistening numbers on his back. '22'.

Daryl huffed to himself and rolled his eyes at his own thoughts, standing and tugging his backpack on. He was in the upper back corner of the bleachers, far off in order to not draw attention to himself, and set off to make his way down them before he heard someone call his name. He turned his head about for a moment before his eyes landed on Shane who was jogging in his direction, still in full gear minus his helmet. The younger Dixon paused, opening his mouth and then closing it again a few times before moving on shaky legs down the last few stairs and to the railing at the edge of the walk way. Shane smiled warmly at him, seemingly pleased with the fact he hadn't ran off yet, and suddenly he felt too hot in his jacket. He swallowed a few times and peeked out from behind his hair which had gotten a bit too long for his liking, but he very well hadn't been home enough to lop it off like he usually would, so he just left it.

"Now, 'fore you go off barking at me. I just wanted to see if maybe you wanted to come to a party tonight. It's the weekend after all.", the linebacker said in a soft yet teasing voice. Daryl's eyes narrowed slightly at the tone, on edge and suspicious of the male taking interest again suddenly after two years. The Dixon shifted, eyes sliding to the ground before inhaling slowly and looking up with hesitant stormy blues.

"This some kinda joke?", he asked, but his voice packed no heat for once, it was quiet and barely there and he watched the confusion and then concern cross Shane's face.

The brown eyed man said nothing for a moment, expression grim, "People mess with you like that before Daryl?" Daryl didn't have an answer at first, shocked by the subdued anger in the words. "Bein' serious. Somebody been fuckin' with you?", Shane tried again, shifting closer to the railing to look up at Daryl squarely, and, even under the padding, he could see the tensing of the linebackers shoulders.

Daryl's mouth opened and closed again in shock mimicking that of a fish before he clamped it shut again, suddenly feel anxiety squirm in his chest and settle like a cold rock in his gut. "Ain't tryin'a cause trouble, Walsh. Just ain't ever been invited ta shit is all, didn't mean to..", he trailed off, eyes flitting about nervously, and normally he never would have babbled out shit like that, but it felt like Shane was staring into his soul and out of all shit he'd been through and all the things he could stomach, that stare was not one. The teen before him looked confused again for a moment before the fire in his eyes dimmed to a simmer and his face fell slightly.

"Daryl," the word was so soft it made him flinch, "Daryl, I ain't mad at _you_. I'm pissed people are still….Look, come to the party. I needed to talk to you anyway. Might as well have a few drinks with it. Ya need it. To be ale to relax, I mean."

The redneck had no response for that, feeling as though he'd just been ordered to go, but Shane gave him an expectant look that didn't probe or prod at him, it was open and warmer now, like before when he'd came up to speak. He was giving him a choice. Daryl swallowed a few times, shifting from foot to foot as he ran the words through his head, though he already had his answer. He wouldn't deny Shane anything. He opened his mouth slightly to wet his lips and glanced at Shane, nodding curtly.

"..Alright, Walsh…..Alright…I'll go. But, not 'cause you asked. 'Cause of the drink you promised me.", he muttered back, looking to the ground before looking up in surprise and flushing as Shane chuckled, the sound filling him with pride.

"Was that a joke, Dixon? Well, I never….It's a date then. Pick ya up here at eight.", the dark haired teen said with a wink, a smile still lingering on his lips from the laugh, and Daryl swore he felt the idea of breathing lost to him for a moment.

Daryl Dixon had never been particularly smart. Never really excelled in anything other then math, mechanics, and hunting. But, that was about where any special thing about him stopped, other then the scars littering his back, but those where less of something to boast about and more of something to hide from the world. No, he wasn't particularly smart intellectually, but he certainly wasn't stupid, and years of beatings from more people then just his dad and more betrayals just for a laugh than he could count on his hands, he was more then wary of his situation, currently out in the parking lot of his school in his nicest outfit, sitting on a curb at 8:45 P.M. on a Friday night.

He knew he should be gone by now. That he shouldn't have expected anything more from the class clown and best linebacker on the team, Mr. Most-Popular-Kid-In-School, but every time he thought of storming off those big brown eyes appearing in front of his would pop into his head, all wide and worried. He'd watched that boy go through two years of school. Watched him grow in size and muscle mass and gain an attractive scruff and arms Daryl would never admit to admiring. He'd come to terms with his sexuality because of that boy. Because of those big brown eyes and that wide, cocky smile. And, the way he'd cock his hip to the side and lean back on the balls of his feet and cross his arms over his wide chest. And, dammit he was fucked.

So, he sat and waited, fully aware he'd be laughed at come Monday for being a 'stupid faggot', and most likely a multitude of other things and he'd have to hold Rosita back from beating someone and worry that Carol was plotting murder behind his back and assure Abraham countless times that it was fine and nothing needed to be done about the situation and sit in awkward silence with Glenn in Trig until he finally said something and shut the poor kid down so he'd drop the subject. But, fuck was this humiliating. He'd even put on a little of that cheap shitty cologne his brother bought for when he went to the bar and put on his nicest shirt that had sleeves and a collar, though the arms were a bit tight around his biceps. And, shit, he'd even tried to mess with his hair enough for it to look decent because, _shit_ , _was this an actual date,_ and now he was just disheartened.

By the time headlights came into view he was nearly asleep on a school bench out front of their arts center, jacket bundled under his head and an arm over his eyes. He only realized another presence when a truck door slammed and hurried footsteps rushed to him. The hunter pulled his arm away from his eyes and gazed somberly as Shane rushed forward, looking panicked and frazzled and trying to smooth at the wrinkled shirt he had on and wringing his hand through his hair in an action Daryl was sure was meant to calm his nerves. That made him feel a little better, considering Shane looked guilty and worried, just downright anxious.

"Holy shit, Daryl, fuck. You're still here. Fuck, man, I'm sorry. Work ran late and my grandmother needed me to come help her fix a damn shelf and when I looked at the clock it was already nine and I came as fast as I could...And, shit, man, I get it if yer pissed. I mean, I'll even just taken you home if ya want. Can't believe I kept ya waitin' like that. And, fuck, ya look good in that shirt, I mean. That's not what I meant to say-"

"Walsh, calm down 'fore ya have an aneurism and I have ta carry yer ass to this damn party.", Daryl muttered finally, the comment making him flush and huff irritably, because, did he actually mean that? Daryl didn't mull over it though, the wide smile on Shane's face, shaking him from a looming inner monologue. He took a deep breath and carded a hand through his locks, sweeping them out of his eyes only for them to drape back down when he sat up and was crowded by an overexcited Shane. He tensed, but the other teen seemed not to notice or at least ignored it, nuzzling his shoulder lightly and mumbling a quiet 'thank you'.

When he finally pulled away, they stayed close before Shane tipped his head down and pressed their foreheads together. The action triggered something in his head and memories of that fateful day two years ago came rushing back to him and he jerked away slightly in surprise as pieces clicked together. Shane had been the one to cradle him. The voice arguing with his brother, the hand in his hair. The soft cooing. Daryl cheeks flushed dark when he noticed the worried look on Shane's face and swallowed thickly, pulling away fully and snatching up his jacket from the bench, gesturing to the car.

"Reckon we should get goin'. Already late after all.", was his only quiet response and he pretended not to see the slight disappointment on Shane's features. It was easier like that. Not acknowledging the tightness in his gut and the warmth in his chest when Shane touched him or when he remembered the day they met. Easier not to acknowledge the way Shane glanced at him here and there on their drive and the way it made his cheeks heat up. Daryl always hated blushing, but, fuck if Shane wasn't a great stimulator to make him do a bunch of things that weren't in his comfort zone. Like this damn party and the football practices and games and actually going to school at times, because if nothing else at least he'd get to stare at the man's back in Biology and watch how his muscle shifted under his t-shirts in turn for dealing with the school day.

Unsurprisingly the party was in full swing when they arrived. Daryl didn't much care to know whose house they were at, all he needed to know was how quick he could hightail it to the woods if need be, whether that need be cops or his ass about to get jumped. Both were highly probable and likely in equal measures and either way, Daryl wanted and escape route, and since they were too far from his house, and that wasn't exactly the best hiding spot anyway, the woods was his number one course of action. Lucky for him they seemed to be surrounded by them, so disappearing would be no problem.

Not that it wasn't hard for him to hide away in corners and blend in so well no one would notice him. He'd become good enough at that while at home. Making himself small. Making himself disappear when necessary, but he would rather be far from the chaos that could ensue, because, after all, he was a Dixon. Just because he was a quiet one that didn't cause trouble didn't mean they wouldn't blame any and everything on him and he would have no say nor back up in the matter. So, it came as a surprise when Shane stepped up beside him and placed a gentle hand on the small of his back.

"You look ready to bolt and we haven't even made it in. C'mon. We can head out back after getting the drinks, have something I want to show ya.", he muttered, a little too close to his ear, close enough for the sensation to making him suppress a shudder. The words eased him slightly though, pleased that he wasn't expected to go inside and socialize, because of that was the case he would gladly rush off and hide until morning or until Shane appeared ready to leave. So, he tagged along quietly behind Shane, weaving through the sweaty bodies and alcohol tainted breath and the stench of testosterone and hormones and weed and the boom of too loud music.

By the time they made it outside Daryl was a ball wound tight with anxiety. They been in there longer then expected, Shane stopping to converse with Rick and bringing Daryl into the conversation though he sort of just awkwardly shifted about, looking quite uncomfortable and very out of place to the other two, not that they mentioned it, Shane just gave him an unnoticed fond look and Rick shot him a sympathetic smile before excusing himself to dance with a smug looking Michonne.

Daryl breathed in the cold air deeply, letting it sting at his lungs before exhaling through his parted lips, allowing the tense muscles of his shoulders to gradually unwind as they moved further from the chaos. He took the offered beer from Shane who shot him a teasing smile that earned him an eye roll as he sipped now. He was aware Shane was hinting at his earlier comment when he agreed to come in the first place. "I never said I'd settle for just one.", he muttered, the sides of his lips quirking up as he took another sip from the cool rim of the glass.

Shane mirrored the movement, taking a sip of his own with a chuckle before licking his lips and glancing at the man, "Daryl, I'll get ya as many beers as ya want, tonight. Gonna pamper the shit out of ya 'fore the nights over with if I have any say in it. Can have anything ya want." Daryl paused at that, eyes floating over to gaze at Shane warily as the brown eyed man gazed up at the moon. He frowned against the night air and followed his gaze, right hand shifting to his mouth so he could nibble at the loose skin at his nailbed. Eventually, he glanced over again to find Shane watching him closely with some unreadable expression, raising his eyebrows in question Daryl lifted his head slightly, letting go of his thumb for a moment.

The linebacker merely shook his head before motioning Daryl to follow him with his free hand. With only a little hesitance he followed after, falling into step beside the other, both comfortable and briskly silent as they worked towards the same destination. When Shane finally stopped, Daryl's steps shuddered and he lifted his gaze to a large barn. They were a good ways away from the party by now, but still on the property. "C'mon.", Shane muttered quietly, hopping up onto a hay bale and putting his beer down and setting the six pack at his feet, cupping his hands together to show Daryl what he expected him to do.

Daryl hummed and glanced up at the height of the barn before back down at Shane's hands and setting his beer down with a sigh. "Is this the part of the movie where you push me off the roof?", he asked jokingly, but it was weak and he fumbled about before stepping into the teen's palms.

"Haha. Very funny, Dixon. On three.", Shane muttered back in a softer tone then Daryl, glancing up at him before looking down once more when the other nodded. They counted together before Daryl pushed off and Shane pushed upwards, the two enough to allow Daryl to grasp the edge of the roof. He had no problem hoisting himself up, other then a slight twinge in his ribs and back he thoroughly ignored as he moved to reach down a hand for Shane. The male passed up the beers first, and the other six pack he'd been carrying along under his arm before the larger jumped and caught his hand. Daryl was prepared though, and successfully dragged him towards the roof's edge enough so he could get the rest of the way up.

Their hands remained locked for a moment after Shane managed to get up safely, and they took a second to gaze at one another. Shane looked deep into his eyes and after a moment he felt his breath get a little heavy at how intense those dark browns had become.

"Sh-Shane-.."

"Do you remember-", a sharp response cut him off, "Do you remember the day we first met?"

Daryl was shocked to silence by the words and his mouth clamped shut from were it had fallen open just slightly. Shane continued to look at him though, intense and expectant and nearly desperate. He stuttered for a moment, fumbling for words before settling on a few sharp nods not trusting his tongue. A look of relief washed over Shane's features and suddenly he was in Daryl's space, and all too abruptly he felt the urge to flee, felt trapped and suffocated and every one of his instincts screaming at him to run before the blows came. He felt utterly suffocated for just a moment, just a split second and then everything went blank other then the sensation of lips on his.

The hunter stilled completely in front of Shane, settled back on his elbows with Shane kneeling over him, a leg between his, kissing him simply at first, just a gentle pressure of their lips sandwiched together, Daryl's thin top lip between Shane's and the smaller remained completely still, afraid to move, because even if he'd come to terms with being gay he still had no experience whatsoever other then his hand on occasion when things got quiet at home. Shane was unperturbed though, and soon the gentle pressure began to shift and move and Daryl's eyebrows scrunched together slightly, a small whimper rising in the back of his throat. Shane hummed back appreciatively at the noise, his movements become a tad more forceful as Daryl began to react to him, mouths moving together simply still, but with more meaning. More passion. More everything.

By the time Shane's tongue swept across his bottom lip, Daryl was already squirming and gasping here and there when Shane grew impatient or particularly rough, high strung and pressing against his zipper. He wasn't worried about his cock, though, not as much as he was Shane's mouth. He seemed keen on learning just how to move his lips and when to nip or suckle, and when their tongues caressed for the first time he jumped back and gasped for breath, gripping tightly at Shane's bicep with one hand, at his neck with the other as he vainly attempted not to shoot off in his jeans like some pathetic five year-old.

When he finally wrestled his eyes open Shane was gazing down at him in concern, which he smothered by surging forward and smashing their lips together again in a clumsy, unpracticed motion, tongue peeking out to softly swipe against the seam of Shane's lips which had yet to shift due to his surprise, because fuck Daryl didn't want him to think he wasn't enjoying himself. Because he'd never felt so good in his life. And, Shane's lips tasted faintly of beer and mint and he wanted to catalogue that taste into his mind for ever. Memorize this moment and replay it on repeat.

It didn't take long for Shane to react, mouth slipping open nearly as eagerly and tongue meeting Daryl's halfway, a pleased groan leaving him, and one hand found the roof while the other found the small of Daryl's back. He guided him down to lay and Daryl whined when their lips parted only to be shushed as Shane's lips dipped further down to mouth at his throat, scarping his teeth with gentle care across his pulse point. The smaller groaned and arched beneath the ministrations, whimpering sweetly into the night air as Shane explored his throat and what he could reach of his collarbone and shoulders before he pulled back. He propped his elbows on either side of Daryl's head and carded one hand through his hair carefully, pressing a final kiss to his forehead. The action made Daryl's cheeks flush darker then any of his other previous actions and he took note of it with a smile and a quick peck to Daryl's bottom lip.

"Been wantin' ta do that for a long time.", Shane muttered quietly, eyes flickering about Daryl's features, watching the surprise wash over his expression. "Wanted ta get close to ya for a while. But, this year, the more I watched you, the more I wanted. Always been kinda sweet on you since we met, but after seein' what I did and watchin' you grow up into what you are now, friends, and you smile more, and you've filled out, and your arms, and, fuck, Dare…Just want ta protect you. Pamper you to death. Treat ya like ya deserve. Such a good kid, Daryl. So good. You're so good."

The breathless words were sealed with another slow kiss, both breathing lighter now, chest loosened from their tensed coils, light and airy with affection the air around them warmed with soft spoken confessions and light huffs of breath.

Daryl had tried to get his own confessions that night, but Shane had left him too occupied to think. The night had ended with them curled in Shane's bed together, curled up in his grandmother's house. It was only then Daryl got to speak his peace and he muttered it to a half asleep Shane, earning a few lazy kisses and the a sweet 'shut up, Dixon and go to sleep' to which he snorted but complied none-the-less. Looking back Daryl had to admit that had been one of the best nights of his life and not just because he got his first hand-job on the roof of some drunk kid's barn, and has his first kiss French and otherwise, but it had also been the start of his and Shane's future.

A Daryl-and-Shane future. Together. And, fuck, it had been wonderful. And, now, here they were, Shane pinching his butt and getting threatened with a spatula for interrupting his pancake making and attempting to frisk him up in the kitchen of all places, and his little brown eyed deputy muttering about only wanting a kiss and clinging to his waist until the cooking was done. Daryl sighed contently, leaning back into Shane's arms as he clicked the oven off, turning his head so their lips could meet in a slow, chest warming kiss.

When they pulled back the sides of Daryl's lips curled up and he met Shane's gaze, who looked suspicious of the change. "Do you remember how we met? And, that first awkward handy at Finnigan's party?", the hunter asked absently as he lightly spooned some eggs onto each of their plates. He heard Shane snort behind him and then felt him nuzzle at the back of his neck, hands coming to rest low on his waist.

"Maybe. You made really cute sounds that night. All inexperienced and red faced and fresh for only me. Always had a feelin' you'd avoided bein' with anyone, but me. Have to admit it's hot knowing I'm still the only one that's ever gotten ta see you like that…Or touch you. Or, fuck, even kiss you. Getting' me rowdy just thinkin' about it…..Why?", Shane muttered back, pressing sweet closed mouthed kisses over the back of his neck.

Daryl rolled his eyes fondly and smiled to himself and ignoring the blush that crossed his cheeks, shaking his head in response, "No particular reason. Just been on mah mind lately, wanted ta see if you remembered is all." Shane smiled against his neck and hummed, turning him around gently before pressing the lips together again, kissing the male much slower then previously, letting them draw out the moment, not stopping until their tongues met and he felt Daryl shiver under his palms. Only then did he pull back and press their foreheads together in a familiar motion, gazing at his husband with soft eyes.

"How could I forget? That was the first night I was able to call you mine. Best day of my life.", he muttered, picking up Daryl's hand and thumbing over the gold band there. He dipped his head and kissed the younger Dixon's knuckles before leaving one last peck on his lips and moving to get his plate.

And, honestly, Daryl could do nothing but silently agree and relish in the glint of the matching gold band on Shane's finger.


End file.
